How the End Began
by BethyXstar
Summary: When Natasha realises that her madman of a father, Barty Crouch Jr, is still alive and out to get her, her fourth year at Hogwarts gets even crazier. And only two people seem able to (or want to) help her, and she must choose only one- Draco: her best friend since childhood who is embarrassed to be seen with her; and George: the sweet, funny Gryffindor who is pressured to hate her


_**(A/N):**__I can't remember where I got the inspiration for this story. But when I did, the words just would not leave my fingertips fast enough. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. This first chapter is pretty long - at least it felt it when I was writing it. This chapter is kind of a prequel to the rest of the story. It's pretty angsty but I prefer to think of it as dramatic._

_I do not own anything from Harry Potter. I do, however, own Freya, Natasha and anyone else you do not recognise, along with the storyline. I will try to follow canon as much as possible._

_Now, there is only one thing left to say, and that is - enjoy!_

* * *

How the End Began

**Chapter One – _I was a Hero!_**

It was cold. Despite being swathed in fur and velvet, Freya Harvey still felt cold to her core. She dreaded to think how her poor little girl was feeling. With that thought, she pulled the sleeping one-year-old closer to her chest.

She looked down at the baby in her arms. She had grown up so fast in the past year and a half. She had her father's fair hair, pale skin and freckles, but her hair already had a hint of the Harvey curls and her eyes glimmered deep brown like her own. She was perfect. She was the perfect little angel that she had always wanted.

It had felt wrong at the time; she had still been at Hogwarts when she fell pregnant, and had given birth four months before they graduated. But the little angel in her arms was the definition of perfection. Whenever she held the little angel in her arms, she knew that she had been right to keep her.

Of course, that feeling was being clouded now, as voices from the courtroom drifted into the corridor in which she sat. She would have been in there herself if she didn't have to look after Natasha. To watch her fiancé get sentenced. To watch the father of her child get sentenced.

She hadn't thought that he would sink that low. She knew that he ran with the wrong crowds – well, obviously: he was a Slytherin – but to be a Death Eater? To have murdered people in the short space of time that they had been out of Hogwarts? To have tortured two young parents to the point of madness? She didn't understand how. She didn't understand why.

She felt them before she saw them. The coldness of the corridor seemed to intensify and it felt as though a thick fog of misery had settled around her. She clutched Natasha closer to her chest, stroking her soft blonde curls in an effort to soothe not only the baby, but also herself. The misery and coldness got stronger and stronger until tears were sliding down her cheeks, and they might have frozen against her skin. As the rattling of their breathing drew closer, she could hear another sound amongst it. Sobbing. He was sobbing, repeating the same words over and over again under his breath, "I didn't, I didn't, I didn't, I didn't..."

The moment they turned the corner, Freya's breath caught in her throat. Natasha woke up and started crying. Barty Crouch Jr.'s eyes met hers. He was paler than ever before and trembling from head to toe. Three others were with him and she knew them well also, but it was only Barty who she felt her world collapse for. And then tears were pouring down both of their faces, because she had seen it in his eyes. He was lying. He had done it. He had done all of those things. He was worse than a murderer.

"I didn't do it," he pleaded, his eyes searching hers for some sort of belief, but he got none; he just saw tears, "Please, Freya, you've got to believe me. I didn't do it." Again, there was no response. He was shaking erratically now. Drops of sweat glistened all over his skin. "Freya, please believe me! Think of our daughter! Think of how she would live without a father!"

Natasha buried her face in her mother's neck, sobbing even louder. Freya said nothing; the tears spoke a thousand words as she just stared at her lover as he was dragged into the courtroom. He never looked away. Before the doors closed, he said three last words that broke her heart, "I love you."

The trial did not last very long. As she sat beside the door, she tried not to listen to the various cheers and hisses and cries and begging. Instead, she played with her daughter, fighting back tears the entire time. Natasha was naive, but she was not stupid – she knew that something was terribly wrong. Where was daddy going? Why was mummy crying?

About half an hour later, an almighty cheer erupted from the courtroom. Freya's stomach twisted. The verdict had been reached. Barty had been sentenced. To what, she did not know. Please God, don't let it be the Kiss! The door was thrown open, making Freya jump to her feet. Natasha sat on the stone floor, staring up with huge brown eyes.

The Lestranges appeared first – Bellatrix was smirking smugly, flanked by a Dementor as she strode from the room with her head held high. She nodded to Freya, but she did not notice. Rodolphus was next, staring straight ahead of him, just over the top of his wife's head. Then there was his brother, Rabastan, who winked at Freya who ignored him and stood trembling from head to toe, as white as a ghost.

She could hear Barty begging, pleading, and screaming. It broke her heart. And then she heard the man who was practically her father yell, louder than she had ever heard him shout before, "You are no son of mine! I have no son!" She leant against the wall, losing the strength to stand on her own as he roared again, "Take them away! Take them away, and may they rot there!"

She fell apart. She had not even seen him and she couldn't take it anymore. Trembling violently, with tears pouring down her face, sobs shook her body and took over her senses. When the Dementors arrived, she didn't think as she pushed her way past them and fell into the arms of her partner. Barty was in a worse state than she could ever have imagined. He was unable to hold her but she pressed herself against him, covering his tear-stained face in kisses, "Please," she breathed between each kiss, "Please stay strong. I need you. I love you. I will always love you, Barty."

But one of the Dementors grabbed her with its ice cold bony grip and dragged her away. She screamed, lashing out with kicks and punches, fighting with all her might to get back to Barty's arms, but the creature held her. As it stared down at her with its faceless being, it felt as though the air was crushing her. The world seemed to be compressing all around her, squeezing tighter and tighter. She stopped screaming and instead began choking as her lungs crumpled. Panic flooded her system. She clawed at the hood of the Dementor, but all of her efforts were useless as her last burst of energy fizzled away.

Her body slumped to the floor beside her crying daughter.

Barely a minute later, had the Wizangamot begun filing out of the courtroom. Each either did not notice or ignored the young woman and the child. Once they were all gone, there was a pause before the door opened again and out came two figures.

First came the tall and majestic, if slightly glum, Albus Dumbledore. Beside him, in complete contrast, was the stooped, battle-worn Alastor Moody with his magical eye, wooden leg and a satisfied look on his scarred face.

"Got just what he deserves," Moody rumbled, "Shove 'em in Azkaban an' they'll be begging for forgiveness in a couple of months."

Dumbledore stopped as he spotted Natasha curled up and crying by her mother's side. Moody's clunking steps faltered. He followed Dumbledore's eye line and also found the young woman and child.

"Is that Miss Harvey?" Moody asked. His magical eye whizzed over her form, searching for signs of life as Dumbledore crouched beside her body and pressed a thumb against her wrist. "Well, she's alive at least," Moody confirmed.

At that moment, Bartemius Crouch Sr. exited the courtroom with his arm around his whimpering wife's waist. Fury still blazed in his eyes but he looked more exhausted and weak than he had ever looked before. Mrs Crouch looked as though she had not eaten for weeks. They both stopped at the sight before them.

"What in Merlin's name has happened?" Mr Crouch bellowed whilst Mrs Crouch rushed over to her almost-daughter-in-law's side and swept her granddaughter into her arms.

Dumbledore straightened, "She's alive, but I suggest you get her to St Mungo's as soon as possible. She's very weak."

"Yes, of course," Mr Crouch mumbled. He helped her up so that she was slumped against his shoulder, "I shall go there directly."

"Wait!" Mrs Crouch stopped him just before he Apparated, "What about Natasha? She has nowhere to go. Neither does Freya. Now that B-Barty's gone." More tears slipped from her pale eyes. The child snuggled closer to her as if to comfort her.

Mr Crouch stood rigid, staring straight ahead. It was Dumbledore that made the suggestion, "Why don't they stay with you? It would be good for the child to be around family, and I am sure Miss Harvey needs all of the support she can get."

"Yes, we can do that, can't we, Barty?"

Mr Crouch hesitated. His face showed begrudged wavering. Finally he gave in, "Very well. But only until Freya can find somewhere for herself." And with that, he Apparated to St. Mungo's.

"Shall I escort you home, Mrs Crouch?" Dumbledore asked the woman who was murmuring softly to the one year old.

"I think I'm ok, thank you, Albus," she smiled sadly at the wise wizard before turning on the spot and vanishing with the child.

Alastor turned to Dumbledore, shaking his head, "Merlin help that poor child."

Freya was alone with Natasha in the Crouch house. Winky was there but she didn't count; she was down in the kitchens cooking a 'welcome home' dinner. They had been gone for hours. Two-year-old Natasha was sitting on the floor with her chubby legs crossed, playing with a rag doll. She was chatting happily to herself using a mixture of intelligible words and nonsense noises.

Freya floated downstairs, beaming. Her chestnut-coloured hair was up in a messy bun whilst her face was delicately made up. She was wearing a lacy dress that accentuated all of her best features. As soon as she reached the landing, Natasha looked up and matched her beam.

"Mummy pretty," she said, reaching up with her little arms. Freya swept her daughter up and danced her around the room. Giggling, Natasha threw her arms out and pretended she was flying.

"Are you excited, Nattie?" Freya asked as they slowed down, "Daddy's coming home today!"

Natasha nodded enthusiastically. Freya kissed her cheek before bouncing back to her feet and pirouetting in the middle of the room whilst calling, "Winky!"

With a pop, the house elf appeared.

"Mistress! What is I doing for you?"

"Could you get some glasses and a bottle of champagne, please Winky?"

"Yes, Mistress," she bowed again before Disapparating. A few moments later, she returned with a tray on which sat three champagne flutes and a bottle of the Muggle alcohol. She set it down on the mahogany coffee table.

"Thank you, Winky."

The front door opened at that moment, making Freya's stomach jump into a frenzy of pixies. Natasha was already up and toddling as fast as her little legs could carry her towards the door. Freya tried to calm herself down as she forced herself to follow. She lifted her daughter onto her hip as she passed into the hallway.

And there he was, in the shape of his mother, draped in a travelling cloak in case the potion wore off on the way home.

"Gramma?" Natasha asked, her little brow creased with confusion.

"Get in the living room," Mr Crouch growled, "Now."

The four of them retreated back into the living room but halfway there, Barty crumbled to the floor. At first in a woman's voice, and then in his own, he cried in pain as his body converted itself back to normal. Natasha began crying, but Freya hushed her gently, creeping closer. The pixies were still flying in her stomach and with every step they got even crazier. Finally, Barty was left in his own body, gripping the floor, breathlessly.

Slowly, she knelt down at the same time as he sat up. With their daughter still on her hip, Freya stared into her fiancé's face. In the few months that he had been locked away, his hair had grown long and grotty. A beard had grown at the end of his chin. He stank of stale sweat and urine. Natasha buried her face in her mummy's neck.

"Barty?" Freya murmured. And then she threw herself at him, showering him with kisses. He was home. Her love had come back to her. Everything was back to normal.

So why was he not responding?

She pulled away, trying to search his face for any sign of recognition. She found that, but then she found the thing that was missing. Love.

"Barty?" she repeated, but this time her voice was much quieter and filled with dread.

Without a word, he stood up and turned away. "Winky?" The house elf appeared in front of him. "Draw me a bath."

"Yes, Master," she curtsied and Disapparated. Barty left upstairs, leaving behind only the creaks of his footsteps.

Confused, with tears glimmering in her eyes, Freya looked to Mr Crouch for any sign of comfort.

He just looked away.

Three days later, Barty had still not said a word to Freya. He refused to even look at Natasha. Mr Crouch had retired to his rooms, missing his wife. They had staged a funeral for her the day after Barty returned. In fact, the only creature Barty spoke to was Winky who showed him nothing but kindness. Freya didn't give up though.

It was on this third day after his return that she finally succeeded... with dreadful circumstances. Something was wrong with Natasha and she would not stop crying. Both Winky and Freya were trying everything they could to get her to sleep but nothing would work. Something must have snapped in Barty's mind because suddenly the nursery door was thrown open and there he stood, seething.

"Will someone shut that stupid thing up?" he hissed.

Freya's head shot up, as she went from stressed to furious in a split second.

"She. Is. Your. Daughter."

"Yes? Like I am my father's son?"

She stood up from kneeling beside the toddler's bed, "Don't you dare. You know he loves you just like you know you love our daughter."

"She is no daughter of mine. You know that better than I do."

She took a step closer, her eyes narrowing, "What are you trying to say?"

"You always were closer to the boys than the girls, weren't you, Freya? A little too close most of the time. A little too friendly, weren't you, you slut?"

And suddenly she was right in front of him. Fire roared in her eyes as she lifted her hand and slapped him across the face. "How dare you?" she shouted, "How dare you accuse me of cheating on you when you went behind my back for months as a _Death Eater? _You murdered people, Barty! You tortured good people!"

Barty towered over her. At some point, during her rant, he had grabbed a handful of her hair, forcing her to back away. He hissed, "I was a hero! I was following orders; I was doing it for the good of the Wizarding World!"

"No you weren't, Barty, you were doing it for the good of you! Because you're a coward! Because you're a pathetic little coward!"

A tear ran down his hollow cheeks as he stalked her into the wall. Natasha was screaming louder than ever before. Winky was panicking, "Master Barty, Mistress Freya, you is upsetting the baby. You isn't ought to fight."

Freya was crying too although she tried to subdue it. Choked sobs escaped her throat as tears fell from the brown eyes she shared with her baby.

Barty's fist closed around her throat as he got right in her face, so close that his lips touched hers as he spoke with such venom in his words that it was as if he was spitting poison right into her mouth, "But that's what you like, isn't it, princess? Pathetic little cowards like Lestrange and Black?" She was too terrified by the malice in his face and voice to respond and instead closed her eyes, praying for help, "And I bet you visited them, didn't you, princess? Whilst I was rotting in Azkaban."

In the tiniest of movements, she shook her head.

"DON'T LIE TO ME!"

She whispered, "I love _you, _Barty. I always have. Not Rabastan. Not Regulus."

When he spoke next, his voice was soft – so soft that it was more terrifying than when he had been yelling, "How can you say you love me," he paused, tightening the hold on her throat, "When you never visited me. Not once."

She opened her mouth to respond but she never had the chance. Because suddenly, he had lashed out and a snap rang through the room. Her body crumpled to floor. Natasha screamed. Winky was too stunned to react.

Barty turned on the toddler, his eyes still blazing with madness. He leapt at her, preparing his entire body to kill the little girl.

"_Stupefy!"_

He froze mid-leap and fell to the floor, as still as his dead fiancée.

Barty Crouch Sr. stood in the doorframe, his eyes wide at the horrific scene before him. His son had killed the mother of his granddaughter and almost killed his granddaughter. He knew it had been a mistake to bring him back. His wife had been wrong. He had known it all along. He wished his wife had never got pregnant.

And he knew what to do. Barty had to disappear. He was a danger to everyone. The child had to go. And he knew exactly where she had to go.

The Malfoys had been friends with both Barty and Freya. They would take in the girl. They didn't have to know every detail. So after giving Winky strict instructions to get Barty securely locked up and not to follow any more of his orders, he headed straight to Malfoy Manor with the crying child in his arms.

As Barty woke up in a dark room, unable to move but with his brain full of painful memories, more tears fell from his face. Into the darkness, he murmured four words.

"I was a hero."

* * *

_**(A/N): **Did you like it? If you did, please don't hesitate to favourite/follow/review. Every sign that someone out there enjoyed my story is a good sign and I love getting reviews more than anything else. Did I capture the characters good enough? Is there anything that I could improve or work on? Please let me know (although try to say it nicely. I may be a slice of the internet, but I still have feelings!). Love from Beth :) xx_


End file.
